


The Taste of You

by Imposterzoe



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Empath, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imposterzoe/pseuds/Imposterzoe
Summary: Brooke can taste emotions and Yvie wonders what Horniness taste like. It's as weird as it sounds.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Yvie Oddly, Ex-Branjie
Kudos: 9





	The Taste of You

I hate being an empath. 

Have you ever tasted an emotion before? I have. 

I guess technically, I have a type of synesthesia where I can taste emotions. But I like empath better. 

Anyway, I can tell what you're feeling. Only problem is I have to french kiss you to do it.

Seems like a good deal, huh? 

"My emotions don't make sense to me."

"I can help! Just gotta lemme slip you the tongue!"

Cool, right? Hahahaha! 

Wrong.

Try explaining to someone you can taste their emotions by frenching them, and tell me how it is when they send you to the looney bin.

That's why I'd never had a boyfriend. I can taste it. Every one night stand, I taste the sweet-salty tang of passion. (Makes the sex great, by the way.)

But in the morning, if I care enough to kiss goodbye, it's… normal. 

No added tang of leftover passion, the fruity taste of hope for a date, the indescribable taste of love. There's no flavor and I don't try to do anything to add some. I just…. Leave.

I didn't even know love had its own distinct taste until Vanessa.

Drag Race was… what it was and I learned. I discovered the plethora of emotions I could taste. 

The hint lavender in her happiness. 

The coolness of relief every time she survived a lip sync. 

The overwhelming iron that showed her anger. 

The heat that showed her stress. 

The beautiful taste of love that I tasted for four months camera free. 

The strongest bitterness my tongue ever struck when I gave her that last sad kiss goodbye. And I started to think I would never taste the sweet tang of love again.

Then Yvie won. And in my drunken haze later that night, I kissed her. 

When I kissed her, I tasted it all. 

The strong lavender for her happiness. 

The sorting popping taste (like pop rocks?) of her excitement. 

The tang of her cigarette, (I know it's not an emotion but that's besides the point). 

But in the back of her throat, just as it became evident she knew who she was kissing, the sweet caramel-like taste of a pleasant surprise. Then the unmistakable taste of... love?

I froze in shock as I determined her feelings. Yvie  _ loved _ me?! 

She pulled back and stared at me in confusion. "Why do you taste so much like lavender?" 

There was a very evident blush on her face that was probably mirrored on mine. 

Yvie loved me and she could taste me back. And she tasted lavender? 

That means I'm happy. I shouldn't be happy. 

I just lost Drag Race after making the top two. I was so close and I just kissed the person who's going home with everything I wanted. And she tasted  _ happiness _ ?! 

"I… had tea." The lie rolls off my tongue too easy for my liking but just because Yvie can taste me back, doesn't mean she needs to know the details of what it means.

"You like lavender tea?" It occurs to me that there are two drag queens incredibly close to each other, bright red, looking stupidly confused. A fan walking by would suck right now.

"I like kissing you," my drunken brain replies and Yvie smiles that damn smile, touching her front teeth with her tongue. 

She has so much tongue, no wonder she can taste me. 

I leaned in again, wanting to taste her beautiful mix of emotions again when A'keria comes to the end of the hallway.

"Where'd y'all go? Party ain't over yet!" 

Can you say mood killer?

"Be back in a second," I call, stepping back from Yvie, "Miss Winner here needed a breather. Not used to people actually liking her."

Yvie gives me one of her famous eye rolls. "Fuck off, Runner-up," She mumbles.

As A'keria walks away, I lean into Yvie's ear. "My name is actually Brock," I whisper to her, "Learn it so you can scream it later." 

Yvie turns bright red and on impulse I kiss her again, tasting the tartness of embarrassment and nervousness, mixing with the richness of her love. 

I pull away and smirk as I walk back to the party. After a long minute, (enough time for me to get a fresh beer), Yvie comes back looking dazed with her lipstick slightly smeared.

A'keria looks between me and Yvie with a shocked expression. I just winked at her and enjoy the party.

After too long a time, I get to my hotel room and turn myself back into Brock. 

Just as I'm organizing my makeup, there's a knock at my door. I walked over and open it, a knowing smile on my face the second the door opened.

"Hey there, Miss Winner," I purred, relishing the blush on Yvie's face.

"Hi, Brock," Yvie chokes out. And the rest of the night is history.

[Many months later.]

I walk in the door of me and Jovan's shared apartment, throwing my keys on the table.

"I'm home! You here, Babe?" I call, dropping my bags. I hear a faint call of "Bedroom," and hurry in. 

Jovan's bent over a sketchbook and I have many conflicted emotions as I take him in. He's wearing my beanie, has my hoodie around his waist, and is using Henry as a table while he sketches with one hand, petting Apollo with the other. 

Seems like a renaissance painting, but whatever. 

I sprint over and jump in the bed, effectively leaving it cat free and Jovan rubbing his leg from where Henry used  it as a launch pad.

"Hi," I whisper in his ear, kissing him softly. I don't use tongue. I haven't seen Jovan in about a month. 

Long periods away from each other makes my first taste of his emotions special, so I try to save it.

"Hey," he grins. We hug each other, Jovan's head buried in my shoulder. 

After a minute I pull back and glance at his sketchbook.

"What's this?" I ask, taking in the sketch. Jovan attempts to cover the page but I move his hands, admiring the tiny details he must've spent  forever on.

"Do you like it?" he whispers excitedly. 

I nod, tracing the drawn hem line. 

"It's so pretty, Jovan," I whisper back, my finger still running along the page. 

A humongous smile blooms on his lips. 

"Thanks. As far as what's it for," he bends over the page with me, 

"It's going to sound cheesy but I drew it thinking of you. It represents how you make me feel." Jovan is slightly pink as he says this and I blush too, as I find that he was looking at me when he says this.

"I love you." The words pop out of my mouth and in the back of mind I realize that maybe these words should've been said BEFORE we moved in together.

Meh, what're ya gonna do?

Jovan stares at me, not in shock, but in adoration. 

"I've loved you since drag race," he  admits.

I almost say that I knew that but how  could I explain it to him? 

Even after all this time, Jovan doesn't know I'm an empath. But I'm thinking too much right now.

I pull Jovan slightly in my lap and kiss him deeply. 

I sigh as I taste the deep coolness of his relief that I'm home. The lavender of his happiness and for a second I taste the slight citrus of doubt, but it's gone as I rub his back. 

It's all wrapped up in the silkiness of his love. Jovan's love tastes different than Jose's. 

Jovan's is fresh. New. And for once in my life, I like something different. I love something different. 

Jovan pulls back with a contemplative  look on his face. "Kissing you is different. You taste," he struggles with the right word, "... Different."

"Different how?" I have to ask. I can't taste myself and I bury everything so it'll be nice to get my feelings read.

"Different like lavender," (happiness), "something cool, like mint or something," (relief), "and something I can't describe. Something...silky." 

Love. He tastes love.

"Did you just say I taste like Silky?" I ask in mock disbelief. 

"Oh my god, I hate you," he yells slapping my shoulder. I smirk as I grab his hand and kiss his knuckles. 

"I'm pretty sure you just said the exact opposite." 

"You're an asshole," says my blushing boyfriend.

My grin turns impish. "And you love me." He sighs softly.

"Yes I do. And I have no idea why." I smile wider and kiss his knuckles again. 

"Wanna get lunch?" I ask, standing up. 

"Yeah sure." He kisses me again and I taste the now familiar silkiness of love on his tongue.

"If that's what Silky tastes like, I'm leaving you," Jovan deadpans as he pulls back. I simply smack his side and walk out. 

[...]

Usually when I kiss Jovan, it's all good. 

Happiness. Passion. Love. 

But the longer we were on tour, the more different emotions came into play. 

I tasted the bitter sadness on his tongue as we watched the reunion. 

The citrus that shows his doubt after me and Vanjie get a  _ bit  _ too touchy on stage. 

The intense heat of his stress before a show. 

The strong iron of his anger after a drawn out argument with Silky. 

That's the only reason I'm glad he can taste me.

With a simple flick of the tongue, the silky taste of my love mixed with my cool calmness relaxes him. 

The bitterness turns to lavender. 

The iron turns to the coolness of mint. 

The citrus turns into the copper taste of possessiveness which eventually turns into that silky taste as he realizes I'm with him and only him.

But I still have to kiss him to relax him. 

And lemme tell ya, when Jovan puts his barriers up, trying to steal a kiss is quite the uphill battle. Trying to steal french kiss? Basically like trying to fight a war with a water gun.

How am I supposed to explain that I can help understand him if he lets me kiss him? 

The realization comes to light after a bad argument between us.

"You just try to solve everything with kisses!" Jovan had screeched at me. 

I don't remember my reply but Jovan had locked himself in our bedroom and I heard him crying his eyes out. I paced along the wall for the better part of an hour when it hit me. 

Jovan doesn't know, so he doesn't understand. I'm knocking on the bedroom door before the thought has fully formed. I need to tell him about my ability.

The door cracked open. "What do you want?" Jovan asked miserably. 

"I have to tell you something important and I can't do it through the door."

If anything Jovan's face breaks even more and the door slams shut, the lock turning. I heard his sobs on the other side and realize that what I just said is scary as hell.

"That came out wrong. I'm not breaking up with you," I call through the door.

"Yeah right," comes the soft, shaky reply.

"Please let me in." I whisper. After several seconds, I hear the lock turn and I don't hesitate before rushing in the room. 

Jovan's on the bed now, staring at the ground and wiping his face dry. 

"I have to tell you something," I blurt.

"Yeah you said that."

I kneel before him and grab his hand. 

"I don't think you get it. This is important. I've never told anyone this before." 

Jovan looks at me. "No one?" he whispers.

"No one. Not Vanjie. Not Nina. Not even my mom. But I'm going to tell you and I'm just praying you believe me, because I'm going to sound fucking nuts."

Jovan looks like he wants to make a joke but my face is deathly serious so he just pats the bed. 

I get up and sit down next to him. Jovan looks at me expectantly and immediately words fail me. 

I open and shut my mouth like a fish out of water while he stares at me.

"Brock I know words screw with you, but if you don't say something soon, I'm leaving and I won't turn back for a long time." His bluntness hits hard.

I try to force the words out. I'm not losing him.

"I can taste your feelings!" I blurt. 

Jovan stares at me for a long time before he gets up and heads toward the door. 

I jump up and rush to cut him off.

"I told you it sounds nuts! But I'm not lying. And you can taste me back. I know you've noticed that my mouth tastes different when I french kiss you based on what I'm feeling." 

Jovan just gives me a blank stare before he rubs a hand over his head. 

"Brock, this is insane. No one can taste emotions. Especially not other people's by kissing them! I mean, how stupid do you think I am?"

I rub my own face in aggravation. "I don't think you're stupid. I'm telling you something about me that's special and I want you to believe me. Ask me anything about it. You know I can't lie and it's too crazy for me to make up." 

A sigh leaves him but he sits on the couch and thinks on it. I sit in the chair opposite of him and watch him. 

We sat in silence for a while and each passing second making my anxiety skyrocket. 

"Do you love me?" Jovan whispers. My head snaps up at the sudden break in the silence. 

"Yes. I do." I whisper back. 

"What does love… Taste like?" He whispers.

I swallow hard. "It's hard to describe but to give it a try…" I think for a second. "It's the sweetest, most silkiest taste. Like the world's best dessert." Jovan weighs my words quietly. 

"That's what you taste like," he mumbles, "no matter what else you taste like, that's always there. In the back of your throat. That means you love me?"

I nod again. "I love you more than anything." 

Jovan sits back on the couch. "That's why you kiss me when I'm upset? To know what I'm feeling?"

I sigh softly. "Well yes and no. Like I said, you can taste me back. If I'm calm and I kiss you while you're angry, you taste my calmness which helps you relax. But sometimes when you retreat into your head, I kiss you so I can figure out what to do."

I pat my lap and Jovan makes his way over and settles onto it, his head on my shoulder.

"This is insane," he whispers. 

"I know," I whisper back, "but I know you're special because you can taste me back." I grab his face and make him look me in the eyes. "So anytime you're scared, just kiss me and remind yourself. I love you." 

I lean forward and kiss him softly, slowly sliding my tongue in his mouth. 

There's a strong taste of citrus. He still doubts me. 

But as my tongue pushes forward, I taste the pop of his excitement and the lavender of his happiness. 

And I know it's because we both taste the same sweet, silky taste in each other's mouths. 

We both taste the love we have for each other and I feel a tear fall from Jovan's cheek to mine but judging from the lavender that's everywhere in my mouth, they're tears of joy.

"I love you." Jovan whispers later that night. 

"I love you, too." I whisper back. He looks down and kisses me slowly.

"I know."

We relax in each other's embrace, love coating both our tongues.

I love being an empath.

"Hey, Brock?"

"Yeah?"

"What does horniness taste like?"

"Oh my god. Fuck all the way off!" I laugh.

I do love being an empath.

I just really hate my boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read these on AQ, I beg you to re-read as I have made changes to what you have read before. Thanks!


End file.
